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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 
i^Hji.::-:... ©ojuinBlJi |xi 

UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 




The Village Church.' 



Friendship 



AND 



Wayside Gleanings. 



BY 

MRS. ELLEN A. BARROWS, 



'"DEC27 1886' ^ ^ 



BOSTON: 

JAMES H. EARLE, PUBLISHER, 

178 Washington Street. 

1887. 



Copyright, 1886. 
By Mrs. Ellen A. Barrows. 

All rights reserved. 



^ctUe ©f @®r)fer)ls. 



PAGE 

1. A Story of the Rebellion 17 

2. An Acrostic 86 

3. Autumn 35 

4. Castle Rock 29 

5. Cheerfulness 78 

6. Contentment 23 

7. Death of President Garfield 95 

8. Drifting Apart 10 

9. Entertaining a Caller 56 

10. Flora 107 

11. Friendship 7 

12. Greenville 69 

13.^ Grief 97 

14. Independence Day 55 

15. Judge Not 103 

16. Julia 102 

17. Life's Song by the Seaside 39 

18. Lilies 28 

19. Little Fannie 99 

20. Little Hattie 100 

21. Mary 104 

22. Morning-Glories II 

23. Mount Auburn 109 

24. Nature's Song. Illustrated 65 



TABLE OF CONTENTS. 



PAGE 

25. Only a Pleasant Smile 73 

26. Picking Berries 87 

27. Sleeping Under the Snow 98 

28. Sometime 16 

29. Sorrow 108 

30. Still River 41 

31. Strangers 36 

32. Success 77 

33. The Goose: A Tale of Long Ago. Illustrated . . 47 

34. The Home Farm 74 

35. The Island 76 

36. The Lawyer's Argument 53 

37. The Little Star 14 

38. The Mountain Pasture 67 

39. The New Year 37 

40. The Old Homestead 31 

41. The Old School-house. Illustrated 24 

42. The Operator 54 

43. The Pictures of a Day 88 

44. The Shaker Bonnet 105 

45. The Snow Storm 82 

46. The Stony Path 30 

47. The Substitute 49 

48. The Sum of Life 91 

49. The Village Church. Illustrated 8 

50. The Visitor 52 

51. To-day 71 

52. True Merit 85 

53. Turn Not in Scorn 13 

54. Twilight 70 

55. Winter. Illustrated 81 

56. Work 84 



PART I. 



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FRIENDSHIP. 

HEN our lives are filled with gladness, 

In life's early morning light, 
Then our friends are like the sunshine, 
Only making earth more bright. 
And we love them, prize them lightly, 

As all else is cherished then, 
For the roses bloom and wither. 
But the summer comes again. 

Even winter has its pastimes, 

Merry sports for childhood's day. 
Wisdom's curtain veils the future 

From the little friends at play ; 
Swiftly years are gliding onward, 

Childhood vanishes, and youth. 
And perchance the hand of sorrow 

Lifts the veil that covers truth. 



WAYSIDE GLEANINGS. 



Then the friends who treat us kindly, 

Reaching out a helping hand, 
Make the golden link of friendship 

Something beautiful and grand; 
Lighting up the darkened places, 

Lifting heavy weights of care. 
Till bright hope, once more triumphant. 

Shuts the gates of dark despair. 

And this very humble tribute, 

I, in friendship, offer you. 
Nothing wise and nothing brilliant, 

Only stories that are true; 
And I claim no social equal, — 

Only gratitude sincere, 
If you help this little volume 

Forth upon its new career. 



THE VILLAGE CHURCH. 

OMELESS she sat in the stranger's 
home, 
Alone in the well-filled place ; 
The heart is alone without its own, 
However the crowded space. 




THE VILLAGE CHURCH. 



Unspoken sorrow breathed in that sigh, 

Following some cheerful speech, 
For faces must smile when souls would cry 

For something beyond their reach. 

They wondered why she was never sad, 

When the sun of hope had set, 
With little in life to make her glad, 

And much that she might regret ; 
So one little sister, kind and true. 

As the people moved away, 
Said, "Tell me the life that has come to you. 

And why you are always gay. 

"Have burdens rolled from your life away, 

Like marbles from out a glass. 
Leaving no trace of their rapid way, 

Or the footprints where they pass?" 
She answered not of her ruined life, 

Of the broken bond of love ; 
She told no tale of toil and strife, 

But spoke of the Friend above. 

She told of the ancient village church, 
Where first she was taught to pray; 

How she often stood on the narrow bridge, 
Resisting the better way. 



lO WAYSIDE GLEANINGS. 



"But one day the Saviour's love," she said, 

"Came unto my wayward heart, 
And there, in our good old village church, 

I promised to do my part. 

"There I learned to trust that the Father's hand 

Is leading me every day. 
In His own good time that the sunny land 

Will shadow across my wa}' ; 
That I have one Friend whom none can change. 

Who upholds the land and sea. 
Whose boundless love through this spaceless range 

Still watches and cares for me," 




DRIFTING APART. 

E went sailing on together, 

My fair young friend and I, 
In bright, sunshiny weather, 
With blue, unclouded sky. 

Our little barques tossed lightly 

Over the rippling sea. 
And the world was full of sunshine 

To my young friend and me. 



MORNING-GLORIES. 1 1 

For miles we drifted onward, 

Together side by side, 
Sometimes so near our hands were clasped 

In floating with the tide. 

But soon a cloud came o'er us, 

Only a tiny speck, 
Deepening into darkness. 

And threatening us with wreck. 

The clouds and storm had vanished ; 

My young friend, where was he.-* 
His barque was drifting from me. 

Full many miles at sea. 

His barque is drifting eastward. 

While I am sailing west, 
And through long years these little barques 

May never float abreast. 




MORNING-GLORIES. 

LOWERS of the early morning, 
Royal-robed, pink, and white, 
Kissed by the first rays of sunshine, 
Bathed with dew-drops of night ; 



12 WAYSIDE GLEANINGS. 

Clinging to a fragile trellis, 
A slender thread of twine, 

Clasped by loving tendrils, 
Fresh from the mother-vine. 

This weight could never bear thee, 

Frail, clinging child of grace, 
Save fastened far above thee. 

Fixed firmly in its place ; 
Thy beauty, oft unnoticed. 

Hides from the noon-day glare, 
First giving bees thy honey. 

And humming-birds a share. 

But with all summer mornings 

That from the darkness spring, 
You join the song of Nature 

And silent anthems sing. 
Bell-shaped, thy modest beauty 

Makes music in my heart, 
"Rings out" its old discomfort, 

"Rings in" its better part. 

Of life fair emblematic, 
In glory, morning comes 

That fain would hide its head 
From glare of noon-day suns; 



TURN NOT IN SCORN. 13 

And OHly climbs by clinging 

To hope with Christian faith, 
The link from earth to heaven 

Secured by pard'ning grace. 

Though the day be long and heated, 

We know that morning light 
Will come with lasting splendor 

Beyond this vale of night ; 
And all that 's pure and spotless 

May hide its incense rare, 
To bloom in living beauty 

Of endless glory there. 




TURN NOT IN SCORN. 

IS not always words of anger 

Which wound an aching heart ; 
Averted looks or scornful eyes 
May send the deadlier dart. 



Your victim may be innocent. 
But can not all explain. 

Turn not in scorn from any one, 
Lest innocence be slain. 



14 WAYSIDE GLEANINGS. 



Our Heavenly Father bids hii sun 
To shine on good and ill, 

And pleasant looks and kindly smiles 
Are emblems of his will. 

Vice will never be encouraged 

By kindly, pitying look, 
Scorn never led the sinner back 

From paths which he mistook. 

Better far to deal outspoken. 

Go tell thy friend alone. 
Tell him not in tones of anger, 

Tell not with looks of scorn. 

It may be the cause is groundless. 
Then trust till you are sure ; 

Will shedding the sunlight round you 
Make your own heart less pure."* 




THE LITTLE STAR. 

HE stormy clouds were gathering. 
Fiercely the cold winds blew. 
One little star from the darkness 
Was dimly peeping through ; 



THE LITTLE STAR. 15 



It found no friendly greeting, 

No other little star, 
The world looked cold and desolate 

Through regions from afar. 

But still it kept on shining, 

Through all the dismal night, 
Out o'er a world of darkness 

It shed its feeble light. 
As God gave its humble mission 

Appointed hour to shine, 
It meekly in its solitude 

Obeyed his will divine. 

The storm-clouds viewed the little star, 

Dispersing one by one, 
And as daylight came for greeting 

Its humble task was done. 
When rose the merry sunshine. 

Above the falling mist. 
It faded away in brightness — 

Its faithful work was blessed. 

Thus in life we are given missions, 

One little place to shine, 
To keep the heart from darkness, 

With light of love divine; 



i6 



WAYSIDE GLEANINGS. 



And though no friendly greeting 
May cheer our lonely way, 

Each humble Christian effort 
Perfects in endless day. 




SOMETIME. 

OTHER, will you please to tell me 

All about the pictures here?" 
" No, my child, I 'm very busy, 
Sometime I will tell you, dear." 

Then the little girl turned sadly, 
Glancing at the painted scene: 

"What's the use in seeing pictures 

When I don't know what they mean.?" 

And she waited many minutes. 

Counting each a single hour. 
While the mother kept on working, 

Beating eggs and sifting flour. 

Leisure hours seemed ever wanting. 

With that all-industrious one, 
Unremembered was the question 

When the morning work was done. 



A SrORY OF THE REBELLION: 1 7 

Daytime faded into evening, 

Time for little "trundle-bed," 
Clasping still the untold pictures, 

Hastily her prayer was said. 

"Come, my dear, why do you linger, 

What is wanting, little one?" 
"Mother, will you please to tell me — 

Tell me, when will sometime come?" 

Many years have come and vanished, — 
Childhood, youth, and middle-age; 

Many pictures just as puzzling 
She has seen on fancy's page. 

And to-night a careworn woman, 
With life's hope not wholly gone, 

Sitting dreaming of the future. 

Wonders when will sometime come? 



A STORY OF THE REBELLION. 

URRAH ! 't is the shout of victory. 
Hurrah ! the battle 's won, 
Let the news ring out triumphant 
Beneath this Southern sun; 




1 8 WAYSIDE GLEANINGS. 

Send the message far and distant, 

The patriot-blood 's afire, 
Shout the news from every hill-top, 

Ring out from every spire. 

Ring ! our country's name is honored, 

Ring! for the noble brave — 
The soldiers, comrades, officers. 

Who died her name to save; 
Let the wires flash the message. 

Send the victory home. 
Mention few the dead and wounded, 

Leave all the worst to come. 

In the nation's great rebellion. 

On this triumphant day, 
Unheeding these shouts of victory, 

A wounded soldier lay. 
"Not worth our while," said the surgeon, 

" He very soon must die." 
So as the shades were gathering 

The ambulance passed by. 

None of the comrades lingered, 

The scene no pen can tell, 
Heroes, just after the battle, 

Lying where'er they fell; 



A STORY OF THE REBELLION. 19 

Pale and white the moon was shinin 

Over the ghastly sight, 
A field of unburied soldiers 

Out in the stilly night. 

Listen ! the silence is broken, 

A woman's step draws near, 
Colder than the dead before her, 

Alive with mortal fear, 
Regardless the scene before her. 

Looking for only one, — 
The loyal heart of a mother 

Seeking her missing son. 

Over the dead and wounded. 

Bending with nameless dread. 
With one wild shriek she has fallen, 

The living with her dead; 
'T is near the wounded soldier. 

He hears the piercing cry, 
Feebly he is calling, "Mother, — 

Oh — leave — me — not — to — die ! " 

"Great God! have I been mistaken, 

My darling, does he live? 
Oh ! Heavenly Father, spare him, 

All else on earth I '11 give ; 



20 WAYSIDE GLEANINGS. 



Oh ! my boy ! my best, my only ! 

Hark ! 't is a feeble moan ; 
Speak with your own lips, darling, 

That voice was not your own." 

A groan from the wounded soldier, 

Left on the field to die : 
" Dear — mother, — you — can — not — save — him. 

Pass — not — this — stranger — by, — 
My — own — mother's — heart — is — breaking, — 

Way — in — a Northern — State, — 
Have — pity, — have — mercy — on — me, — 

And — stay — this — dreadful — fate ! " 

"A mother, have you a mother? 

My human heart must heed. 
Though I hate the Union army, 

I '11 grant your every need ; 
For woman's heart has sympathy. 

And scorns a mean revenge. 
And Southern blood true kindliness 

Where hostile service ends. 

''Take a swallow of this brandy, 

Be sure and lie quite still. 
While I go and call my servant, 

He waits beyond the hill." 



A STORY OF THE REBELLION. 21 



"Is this the man you've brought me to; 

Oh, missus, are you mad? 
You have surely lost your senses 

In weeping o'er the lad. 

"What! carry a Union soldier 

Where a Southern general goes? 
We should be shot as traitors 

Quick as they saw his clothes. 
No, missus, we can not do this, 

He must be left to die, 
Though it nearly breaks my poor old heart 

To listen to his cry." 

"Don't, David! please don't leave him, 

Though all you say is true, 
I can not withstand his pleading — 

He has a mother, too ! 
Lift him up ; oh, please do take him, 

His face is young and fair, 
Like the face of my dead darling 

A-lying over there." 

"Now, missus, there is just one way. 

If your boy over there 
Could change clothes with this soldier 

I know he would not care, 



22 WAYSIDE GLEANINGS. 



For he was always doing good, 
And now he 's dead and gone 

If only his cold lips could speak 
They'd say: 'Put these clothes on, 



> >> 



"Oh, David! your plan seems wicked, 

But something must be done, 
I know my son would give his clothes 

To save a suffering one ; 
So go and bring assistance. 

Take home this wounded lad. 
And bring my darling's clothes all back 

When he is safe in bed, 

"For I must take my soldier home 

To sleep with all the rest. 
And would that I could follow soon, 

But God, they say, knows best. 
Oh ! this cruel, wicked war, 

Why did he take a part ? 
But every soldier lying here 

Is breaking some one's heart." 

The battle-cry has ended, 

Sweet peace from shore to shore, 
Go listen to old David 

And he will tell you more. 



CONTENTMENT. 23 



You '11 find him in a Southern home, 
His hair is turning gray, 

He 's telling the same old story- 
He 's told for many a day : 

"That soldier proved a blessing — 

The one good missus took — 
He marry her daughter Jennie, 

Just like folks in a book; 
And now I am lame and feeble, 

And can not pay my way, 
He gives my family all we need, - 

And some to spare each day." 




CONTENTMENT. 

HAT is there in life's endeavor 
Brings contentment to our lot ; 
Allays each unforgotten sorrow, 
And makes home a happy spot? 

It is not riches, pride, or splendor ; 

It is not homes gold can buy ; 
Nor fame that wreaths a crown of glory 

Round a name that will not die. 



24 WAYSIDE GLEANINGS. 



'T is simply doing deeds of kindness, 
Cheerfully each task we meet, 

And laying every heavy burden 
Humbly at the Saviour's feet. 




THE OLD SCHOOL-HOUSE. 

HE happy days of long ago 
Came back to me to-day, 
As I visited the school-room, 
As I saw the children play. 

It was "recess," and the scholars 

Were building a snow-man. 
I thought how like our youthful dreams, 

To-morrow 't will be gone. 

I remembered many a day-dream. 

Many a childish plan, 
Time had vanished, just as sunshine 

Dissolves this snowy man ! 

At the sounding of the school-bell, 
They rushed, with cheeks aglow, 







'SriKluL IS OVKR." 



THE OLD SCHOOL-HOUSE. 2/ 



While that bell, to me, was ringing 
The happy long ago. 

In those time-worn desks, I pictured 
The boys and girls of then, — 

Some cheerful, toiling mothers now, 
Some wealthy, care-worn men. 

I fancied my "fair-haired" sister , 

Back from the silent shore ; 
We were happy, loving children 

In that school-room once more. 

I remembered, in the summer, 

The place I liked to be, 
Idly weaving fancy pictures 

Beneath a shady tree. 

How my childhood dreams had clouded, 
Had the future been unveiled! 

It is well I gathered sunshine, — 
Not thinking it might fail. 

We are learning daily lessons ; 

Life's school-hours have not passed, — 
But why comes not to our later years 

The old confiding trust.? 




28 WAYSIDE GLEANINGS. 



LILIES. 

HE grand old trees are waving 
Along the mossy shore, 
And little birds are singing 
As sang in days of yore, 
Where water-lilies send us 

Their gentle, sweet perfume, 
Across the rippling waters. 

Like some old, cherished tune. 

They sing the song of childhood ; 

Again we wade the stream, 
Again these watery treasures 

Glide from us like a dream. 
Only a few can we gather, 

And carry to the land ; 
Like life-work, more elude the grasp 

Than fill the toiling hand. 

In value to our happiness, 
No treasures can excel, — 

The treasures won in after-years 
Are never loved so well. 

Fair emblems of purity. 

That filled our hearts with glee, 



CASTLE ROCK. 29 



Thy fragrance — a sad reminder! — 
That once our lives were free. 

Away at this noontide hour, 

Away from toil and care, 
We dream of a beautiful land, 

Where all is pure and fair. 
The lilies that grow over there 

Waft fragrance to this shore ; 
Innocence, purity, and love 

Come to our hearts once more. 




CASTLE ROCK. 

(At Marblehead Neck.) 

HAT artist's skill can paint the charm 

Which Nature wears to-day, — 
The dashing waves upon the rocks, 
Or smaller waves at play } 

The islands in the distance. 

The spouting waters near, 
The noble, grand, and beautiful, 

Are all united here ! 



30 WAYSIDE GLEANINGS. 

The sun's rays fondly linger 
Around this hallowed spot, — 

Oh ! the grandeur and sublimity 
At brave, old Castle Rock ! 




THE STONY PATH. 

HE homestead of my childhood 

Lies far beyond my gaze ; 
A few lone birds are singing 
To welcome noontide rays. 
No wild and lovely forests, 

No meadows, green, are near ; 
I climb the rugged pathway. 
And look beyond with fear. 

Beside this stony pathway 

Grow sweetest flowers, and fair, 
And fragrance of the wild bell 

Is wafted on the air. 
Did such grow near my homestead, 

I never thought before ; 
Content with garden blossoms, 

I looked for nothing: more. 



THE OLD HOMESTEAD. 3 1 

But now I stoop and gather 

Each flower, though small, I see ; 
And every tiny blossom 

Brings happiness to me. 
Away from noble forests 

And sunny, rosy bowers, 
I bless this stony pathway 

For beauty of its flowers. 

Thus, in the land of sorrow, 

The weary hill we climb 
Is strewn with fragrant blossoms, 

Sown by the hand of Time ; 
And though the road seems barren. 

Kneel down, and we may find 
The fairest flowers, and fadeless, 

The blossoms of the mind. 



THE OLD HOMESTEAD. 

JAD, fond recollections came trooping 
along, — 
The saddest, the fondest, for years I 
had known, — 
As I stood on the threshold of my old home. 
As I lifted the latch and entered alone. 




32 WAYS/DE GLEANINGS. 

Memory lingers where it loves best to dwell, 
And back from the past came a magical spell, 
Which rolled from my heart each burden away. 
And I was a child again, just for to-day. 

There greeted me mother's bright, cheerful smile. 
Arms outstretched, — a kiss to welcome her child; 
Sister called out from her hiding-place, "Boo," 
And baby looked from the cradle to coo. 

We watched, from the window, father and the 

man 
Coming, with their scythes, from "intervale land"; 
Dinner was ready in short space of time. 
And a light-hearted girl sat down to dine. 

I did not think, then, how a mother might tire 
Baking, broiling meat, over a kitchen-fire ; 
How baby might cry when her hands were full, — 
Thoughtless and happy, my first day from school. 

Whatever troubled mother no trace was left, 
We felt only a peaceful, sweet sense of rest ; 
Rich in possession, as queen on her throne, — 
Refreshed, made happy, I skipped from my home. 

There was the rock where my play-house was 

built; 
Golden-rod grew for my room framed in gilt ; 



THE OLD HOMESTEAD. 33 

Daisies and buttercups ranged in bouquets, 
Beautified that home on sunshiny days. 

The hill seemed, to me, steep then, the path- 
way long, 
Which, to-day, looked only a step from my home. 
The moss had grown green on top of the rocks — 
No little feet now traced that carpet of moss. 

Lower down was our kitchen, grown up to weeds ; 
Who can say these hands did not scatter the 

seeds .-' 
For in life we unconsciously sow every day 
Where the weeds may grow rank as the years 

pass away. 

There was the lane, where the cows came at 

night : 
Old Daisy, old Beauty, old Blacky, and White; 
But the barn, as the house, had all been changed. 
And only in nature all things remained. 

The maple tree stands where we gathered at 

night. 
Where the sun's last kiss cast a soft, glowing 

light ; 
To-day I mused in the twilight alone, 
List'ning once more to the flute's mellow tone. 



34 WAYSIDE GLEANINGS. 



There floated on the silence that evening song 
Which we sang in the days that have come and 

gone; 
Father ceased playing, the children were still, 
To list the mournful call of •'Whip-poor-will." 

Four little, closed eyes, four hands folded tight ; 
Two loving little sisters knelt down that night 
Close by the "trundle-bed," while mother stood 

near, 
Listening in silence to the childish prayer : 

"Now I lay me down to sleep"; when this was 
said, 

Two sleepy, little girls were tucked into bed; 

And mother's warm kiss brought a smile to each 
face. 

As though dreamland led to a bright "fairy- 
place." 

Now leaving these innocent children asleep. 
Watched by a Sentinel whose record will keep 
Coming back to the present, I stand alone, — 
In after-years God called the purest one home. 

Little brother grew tall and wandered away, 
Mother and father are with sister to-day ; 



AUTUMN. 35 



Though husband and children make my own 

home glad, 
For the home of my childhood my heart is sad. 



Groton, September, 1879. 



AUTUMN. 




HEY are fading in splendor, 

The leaves one by one ; 
All gloriously penciling 

The Autumn has come. 
The Spring-time went by 

With sunshine and storm ; 
All the merry Summer days 

Have rolled into one ; 
And PAST is the motto 

Placed over that door 
Which closed to be opened 

In time "never more." 

Thus life hath its seasons, 
Its sunshine and storm. 

The days of our harvest 
Most surely will come; 



36 WAYSIDE GLEANINGS. 

If each act is for right, — 

Each deed is but true, — 
They will change, like the leaves, 

To a bright golden hue. 
Where Time fails to paint 

Life's truths as they fade, 
Eternity will give 

Each act its own shade. 




STRANGERS. 

N traveling through the city, 
What faces strange we meet ; 
People of high and low degree 
Hurrying through the street : 

Going with self-interest, 
Caring naught for others ; 

Or, perchance, there may be some 
Looking out for brothers. 

A brother, though a stranger, 
Sometimes we chance to meet, 

Willing to give assistance 
To beggars in the street; — 



THE NEW YEAR. 37 



Willing to guide a stranger, 
And never call him green, 

"Whate'er" his name or station; 
In this he is not mean. 

He may be great and noble, 
Or of an humble mind ; 

We know not what his life is, 
We only know he 's kind. 

And when wc 're thinking over 
The strangers we have met. 

The one v/ho spoke the kindest 
We shall not soon forget. 




THE NEW YEAR. 

HE old year is sleeping 

In a shroud" of pure white, 
While the new slyly takes 
Its first peep on the night. 

This child of a moment 
Has a book in its hand. 

Looking out, on the silence, 
All over the land ; — 



3^ WAYSIDE GLEANINGS. 



A book full of mystery, 

Whose leaves will each turn 

To write our names nearest 
The deeds we have done. 

One leaf has a motto, 

Recorded in white : 
"Do the best that you can, 

With will and with might ! " 

Another leaf turns darkly, — 
Pride, anger, or scorn. 

Chokes the good resolutions 
Formed early at morn. 

And so the leaves, turning, 
Each day will turn on : 

A record of cloud-life, 
Or fair as the sun. 

Real sorrow can never 
Make the heart impure ; 

So the record is white, 
If we trust and endure. 

Only guilt and its shadows 
Will leave any stain — 

On the white leaf of Time 
May each write his name. 



LIFE'S SONG BY THE SEASIDE. 39 

The year is before us, 

Bright, happy, and new ; 
Let us each make its record 

Both noble and true. 




LIFE'S SONG BY THE SEASIDE. 

HE moon looked forth in beauty, 
The winds had gone to sleep, 
And not a wave dared ruffle 
The calm and mighty deep. 
The star that guides the sailor, 

In glory stood alone. 
While smaller and less brilliant 
The countless myriads shone. 

A murmur on the waters, 

A sweet and gentle song. 
Came floating o'er the stillness, 

Like voices hushed and gone. 
I listened to the music, — 

The song was that of life ; 
Painted in each seraph-voice, 

Was every worldly strife. 



40 WAYSIDE GLEANINGS. 

The first was fair Ambition, 

Her crown was in the dust ; 
They sang of kings whose helmets 

With scoffers' shields should rust — 
Then followed Pride, with sorrow 

In all her trackless dome. 
For whom the world calls "goodly," 

The pure above disown. 

They sang of friends whose friendship 

Would grasp one in the dark, 
And, winning with deception, 

Quench friendship's glowing spark ; 
Of honor robbed from truthfulness. 

Whose serpent's poisonous dart 
Pierced the very souls within. 

And left a bleeding heart ! 

Their tones were those of sadness, — 

Life's song was that of love, 
Bidding earth's fallen children 

To turn and look above. 
The victor's crown was given, 

Not to the strongest part. 
But the sweetest angel sang 

This for the pure in heart. 



STILL RIVER. 41 




STILL RIVER. 

ALM and peacefully this river 

Wanders through the pastures green, 
Where the willows cast their shadows 
On the sandy shores between. 

Mirrored on its placid surface 

Wierd visions come and go : 
Flitting branches from the tree-tops 

Clasping mossy shrubs below. 

Near the arching bridge the waters 
Sink in darkness almost clear ; 

Straying sunbeams through the arches 
Making fancy pictures here. 

Day by day these silent shadows, 
Though unseen, remain the same ; 

And the quiet rest in nature 

Gave this tranquil place its name. 

Just above, the merry village 

Smiles in contrast to this place ; 

Christened for this silent river, 
Makes no impress on its face. 



42 WAYSIDE GLEANINGS. 

Here we find true-hearted pleasure, 
Cheerful home, and happy heart, 

For the village and the river 
Only harmonize in part ! 



PART II. 



r^i?i(2.r)(asr)ip err)(a \A7 Gtysiae. ISTleerriir)^^ 




THE GOOSE: A TALE OF LONG 
AGO. 



N the earlier clays, when farmers 
Their daughters sent to town 
To change their produce for some tea, 
Or chance, a bright, new gown, — 



A pretty lass, with rosy cheeks. 
Went tripping down the street, 

In rather unchristian fashion, 
Thinking revenge is sweet. 

For often the smooth-tongued grocer 
Had cheated in his weight, 

And paid her only half the worth 
The yarn she 'd spun of late. 



48 WAYSIDE GLEANINGS. 



Arriving at the market place, 

She courtesied quite low 
As the grocer lifted her basket, 

With a most pathetic bow. 

" Good-morning, fair young lady ! 

A nice, young goose, you say; 
My family shall have a feast. 

And dine from this to-day." 

One week had passed ; 't was market day, 

And all the town was there, 
For Mary had slyly whispered 

She 'd made the bargain fair ! 

Perhaps it was accidental 

That she was last one in. 
The merchant scowled and shook his fist ; 

Now I '11 expose her sin : 

" I thought you said that goose was young ! 

We boiled her one whole day, 
And after roasting forty hours, 

That goose was thrown away ! " 

The maid she fell to weeping. 
When the parson happened in, 

As though she had committed 
Unpardonable sin. 



THE SUBSTITUTE. 49 



•* I broke my sharpest butcher-knife, — 
Tige almost broke his jaw, — 

And I was nearly choked to death — 
Miss, you deserve the law ! " 

The roguish maiden hung her head, 

Pretending to be sad : 
" Cease ! cease your scolding, sir, I pray ! 

I will explain," she said. 

" My grandma has often told me, — 

Repeating it last night, — 
That goose was hatched the very day 

These eyes first saw the light ! 

" Sir, you called me a young lady, — 
That goose was just my age; 

I 'm sure I took your word for young ! 
Then wherefore, sir, this rage ? " 




THE SUBSTITUTE. 

WAS the night before Thanksgiving, 

Just twenty years ago ; 
The trees and shrubs were leafless, 
And fields were white with snow. 



so WAYSIDE GLEANINGS. 

The battle-cry was sounding, 
And many hearts were sad, 

Working with busy fingers 
For some poor soldier-lad. 

But merry, thoughtless school-girls, 

With faces all aglow, 
Were busy filling boxes, 

Or knitting heel and toe. 

" I am going to put my name in, 
And number of my box," 

Said one young, blushing maiden. 
Holding a pair of socks. 

" Oh, that will be a romance ! " 
Cried all the girls, in glee, 

"And whatever comes of it, 
Promise to let us see." 

An answer came full quickly. 
One, two, and more beside, 

Until she half-way promised 
To be a soldier's bride. 

And when the war was ended. 
Her soldier came this way : 

She would meet him at her uncle's, 
For what the girls might say. 



THE SUBSTITUTE. 5 I 



But he, a man suspicious, 

Thought, " There 's no fool to me ; 
She may be black, or crippled, — 

I '11 send my chum, to see." 

Now, it chanced that this substitute 

Had very crooked eyes, 
Was very tall and angular, 

With feet twice common size ; 

His nose was large and homely, 
His mouth was much the same : 

He well could hide his natural sense. 
Appearing very tame. 

Oh, fair and bright delusion 
Of brave and gallant knight, 

Was sentiment or poetry 
Produced by such a fright } 

Thus thought the handsome maiden, 
As she took each promise back ; 

And not until her soldier's bride 
Did she discern the fact. 

For he had won in natural guise, 

But with another name, — 
She went to visit his mother, 

Was how the knowledge came. 



52 WAYSIDE GLEANINGS. 

'T was the day before Thanksgiving, 
The house was full of care, 

So she rummaged in the attic, 
In search of relics rare. 

There, in a well-worn knapsack, 
Her letters tied with white, 

Together with the hosiery 
Of that eventful night. 




THE VISITOR. 

HAT! Mrs. Joseph Kelly 
Will come to stay a week ! 
Why, this is something dreadful; 
I can not go to sleep ! 

She's full of whims and notions. 
And nearly drives me wild — 

I 'd rather old Apollyon 

Would come and bring his child ! 

But, then, she 's very wealthy, — 
In fact, she 's all the style ; 

I suppose I '11 have to stand it 
For such a little while. 



THE LAWYER'S ARGUMENT. 53 



Good-bye, dear Mrs. Kelly; 

I think so much of you, 
I hope you '11 come quite often, 

And bring your darling, too. 

He 's such a good and noble boy 
Just like his own mamma; 

Remember me to all the folks, 
Especially papa. 




THE LAWYER'S ARGUMENT. 

OT guilty," returned the jury, 
To the prisoner's surprise ; 
And those who knew culprit well, 
Just slightly raised their eyes. 

One day, in the lawyer's travels, 

He recognized old Tom ; 
Shaking him warmly by the hand. 

He said: "My good man, come 
Now, tell me, true and honest. 

So nobody will hear. 
Did you really steal that horse 

I cleared you for last year?" 



54 WAYSIDE GLEANINGS. 

*' I kinder thought I stole him, 
And took the highest bid ; 

But sence I heered your argiment, 
I don't believe I did." 




THE OPERATOR. 

LICK ! Click ! Tick ! Tick ! the message 
comes or goes ; 
Some are sad, some glad, some she 
never knows : 
Like a lover's glance, or press of his hand, 
'T is intended no third shall understand. 

The merriest girl, the busiest girl, 

In her prison-life, with its daily whirl; 

The "in train" is due, a message goes through. 

And yesterday's work to-morrow will do. 

Over and over, 't is ever the same : 

Clicking and ticking for somebody's name. 

I might still write on, but the stars have come, 

So has the gentleman that sees her home. 



INDEPENDENCE DAY. 55 




INDEPENDENCE DAY. 

ERY early in the morning, 

Long before the birds awake, 
Such a racket, such a stormino: — 
Oh ! what a din the boys make 
With their pranks : ill-fated wagons 

Fixed to fall, and fences gone ; 
In the kitchen fiery dragons 

Meet us when the sun goes down. 

Boys singing Independence 

Day has come, and so we know; 
For, without the least pretendence. 

All authority must go. 
Freedom ! Yes, they all declare it 

Louder than in years gone by; 
Take the army and compare it — 

Milder is the battle-cry. 

Fire-crackers, loud torpedoes, , 

Greet us everywhere we go ; 

Louder than the great tornadoes. 
Swifter than the winds that blow. 



56 IVAYSIDE GLEANINGS. 

Horribles, antique and modern, 
Only shamming something real ; 

If they take you back to Sodom, 
All the better the ideal. 

So the Fourth of July ending 

With the warning midnight hour, 
Scarcely any comprehending 

This day of mighty power. 
Little heeding its true import, — 

Peace and freedom dearly bought ;- 
One great nation's crowning effort 

Of the many battles fought. 

Independence ! first, a nation ; 

Second, freedom for the slave ; 
Last, the victory of creation 

Comes when sin is in its grave. 

Groton, July 4, 1885. 






ENTERTAINING A CALLER. 

MAY come in the parlor.? 

Oh ! that is very nice ! 

You 're waiting for Cousin Fanny, 

She says you 've been here twice. 



ENTERTAINING A CALLER. $7 

She called me a naughty girl, 

And told me to be still, 
And not tell every thing I see; 

But then, I guess I will ! 

For she is away up-stairs, 

Putting white stuff on her face ; 
She can't put on her frizzles. 

They 're in such a funny place ! 
She picks them off her head at night, 

And puts them on the stand ; 
I hided them in my apron, — 

They 're here, right in my hand. 

You are very glad I came, — 

Well, 'most all people ain't ; 
Ma says I 'm an awful bother. 

And nearly make her faint ! 
You say you like good little girls. 

Do n't you like big girls, too ? 
It 's nice to come and talk with you 

Just like the big folks do ! 

Does Cousin Fanny speak of you ? 

Yes, she says lots of things ; 
One day she told my mamma 

You had a host of sins, 



58 WAYSIDE GLEANINGS 

But she was going to catch you, 
For you had lots of cash ; 

She would have to ship poor Charlie,— 
She could not live on trash ! 

She said that she loved Charlie best, 

But he would have to go, 
For if you had n't got much brains 

You was a stylish beau; 
And I think you are nicer. 

You let me come in here, 
And do n't kiss Cousin Fanny, 

And call her little dear. 

Yes, that 's the way that Charlie does, 

And then they shut the door, 
And say, " Run off, you little girl, 

Do n't bother any more." 
Now do n't take up your hat and go. 

For Cousin Fan will scold, 
And say it 's something dreadful 

That I have been and told. 

For one day when a lady came, 

I did n't say very bad, 
I only asked her softly 

To let me feel her head; 



ENTERTAINING A CALLER. 59 

I told her Cousin Fanny said 

She had a place on top 
That was just as soft as putty, 

And then she would not stop. 

And Fanny shaked and shaked me, 

And made me cry all day — 
There 's Cousin Fanny coming, 

Oh! please don't go away; 
Tell her I have been a good girl, 

And sat here very still; 
I '11 give you my best dolly 

If only just you will. 



F»ART III. 



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NATURE'S SONG. 




H ! the murmur of the pine trees, 
Lulling all the world to sleep, 
Like the sound of rushing waters, 
Like the rolling of the deep. 
Rest, my mind, from weary thinking, 

Lift the heavy weight of care. 

Sing the song of merry childhood. 

When my life was free as air. 



Purple clouds like fleecy curtains 
Mildly shutting out the light. 

While the happy birds are singing. 
Bidding all the world good-night. 

Just the same they sang in childhood, 
But the song was never sad, 



66 WAYSIDE GLEANINGS. 

And the murmur of the wildwood 
Played a tune that made me glad. 

Blow once more, ye gentle breezes, 

Let me feel thy soothing power ; 
Waft me back to days of sunshine, 

In the fullness of this hour; 
Let me feel thy holy influence, 

Taming every thought so wild, 
Let me view the years behind me, 

Trusting as a little child. 

Nature's song has lulled my spirit, 

I can look without a doubt. 
Though the mysteries are many. 

And the cause past finding out. 
Like the distant hills and valleys. 

Interspersed with shades of green, 
So the up and down we 're living 

Spreads out peaceful, calm, serene. 

Mapped-out life has all the color 
Of the golden sunset hue, 

For we know the bounteous giver 
Meets to every man his due ; 

And the light and shade so mingle. 
If we view them all as one, 



THE MOUNTAIN PASTURE. 6/ 

That we have no cause for sorrow 
At the setting of the sun. 

Kindred friends have been my pilots, 

Shared the sunshine and the shade, 
Listened to the songs of Nature, 

Till we saw the sunlight fade; 
And when daylight fades forever, 

May we meet without a care, 
In the brightness and the sunshine 

Of the morning: "over there." 




THE MOUNTAIN PASTURE. 

OUND for the mountain pasture, 
Out in the bracing air. 
Over the stony pathway. 
Leaving a world of care. 

Annie, Clara, and Allie, 

Each to pilot the way. 
Our homes lie far and distant. 

We 've only met to-day. 

Bound for the field of berries. 
Over the fence and wall, 



6S WAYSIDE GLEANINGS. 

Renewing days of childhood, 
Living them one and all. 

Clara and Allie are happy, 
Each is too young for care ; 

Annie, I know not your life, 
Of work I 've had my share. 

But we 've thrown aside each burden. 
We 've joined the children's glee, 

And listened when Allie whistled 
A tune for you and me. 

We have picked the thickest berries, 
We 've watched the squirrels play, 

We have stood on highest places 
And looked for miles away. 

You 've laughed at my invention, 
The way I strapped my pail, 

We 've drank our health together 
From the springs that never fail. 

Nearly the sun is setting. 
And now we 're going back, 

You to the work before you, 
I to the same old track. 



GREENVILLE. 69 



We may never meet again, 
By chance we met to-day; 

We leave this place to memory, 
When years have passed away. 




GREENVILLE. 

HIS fine little town in New Hampshire, 
Surrounded by meads, hills, and vales. 
Has become attractive to many 
Through its news or historic tales. 

There 's naught sleepy or stupid about it, 
'T is a stirring, wide-awake place, 

And we read business or animation 
Upon almost every face. 

Beautiful scenery surrounds this town. 

And visions of fancy roam free. 
As we stand on the bridge where the water 

Looks deep and dark as the sea. 

But we feel as we see the large buildings, 
Where busy hands labor all day. 

How much happier is useful action, 
Than dreaming life's seasons away. 



70 WAYSIDE GLEANINGS. 

There is much more of interest to 'mention 
The people are friendly and kind, 

And, reader, should you visit in Greenville, 
Please bear this advice in your mind : 

Look around for a cousin or grandma, 
You will find that a friendly face 

Is much more attractive than scenery. 
And greatly enhances the place. 






TWILIGHT. 

|0W inexpressibly beautiful 

The scene I view to-night, 
The clouds with their golden-purple hue, 
Fringed with a silver white ; 
The blending colors of the forests 

As fading leaves appear. 
Is there language that can paint the scene. 
When twilight hour is near.? 

My knowledge is inadequate, 

The power of speech is still, 
I only gaze on the beautiful. 

The art of higher skill. 
And there comes a glow from the sunset, 

A glow of childish thrill. 



TO-DAY. 71 

As came when I thought that Heaven was there 
Beyond the bJue-capped hill 

Each fleecy cloud, as in olden time, 

Silently sails away, 
And to-night my memory sails with each 

To trusting childhood's day ; 
And I see in each a little barque 

That bears our good deeds on, 
The barque of a beautiful angel 

Sails away with the sun, — 

Sails lovingly on in the distance. 

Bearing my doubts and fears. 
And Heaven seems just as near to me 

As in those backward years. 
The good and beautiful mingle. 

Life's care glides far away. 
As splendor kisses the earth good-night, 

To close the autumn day. 



TO-DAY. 




HERE 'S no time to lose in regretting. 
The deeds you have done are "for 
aye." 



72 WAYSIDE GLEANINGS. 

Then waste not a moment in fretting, 
But begin and do better to-day. 

You can not live past in the present, 

For only its lessons remain, 
But you can make now very pleasant. 

By commencing life over again. 

There 's a work for the old and the young, 
A good work for the greatest and least, 

'Tis this, that wherever you roam, 
Live all in your life which is best. 

Do not wait for great deeds in doing. 
But cheerfully do all you can, — 

The aims we are daily pursuing 
May have an unlimited span. 

The deeds which we look upon lightly 
May go traveling on and on. 

And each little act done rightly 

Will sum up at last as "well done." 

Depend not on friend or neighbor, 

But love them as they were your own ; 

The hands which perform the labor 
Will reap the harvest they 've sown. 



ONLY A PLEASANT SMILE. 73 

We may walk with our friends hand in hand 
Till we come where the roads divide ; 

Then one travels on to "that land," 
While the others are left on this side. 

Only one friend is loving and just, 

Who can walk with you here and there, 

An invisible arm you can trust 
To lighten each burden you bear. 

To-day choose that friend as your own, 
To-morrow the roads may divide, 

And you may be traveling alone, 

Or a stranger may walk at your side. 




ONLY A PLEASANT SMILE. 

HE wore no costly jewels, 
No gorgeous, fine array. 
Still she was most beautiful 
Of all I saw that day. 
Her haughty sister passing, 

To some might look as fair, 
But hearts may speak through faces, 
And no kind smile was there. 



74 WAYSIDE GLEANINGS. 

Traveling on life's journey, 

That day ne'er comes again, 
But in pleasant memory 

That smile will long remain. 
It cheered a heart made heavy, 

It lightened one dark day, 
Unconsciously, it may be, 

Made beautiful the way. 

And who can say but angels 

Were looking on, the while, 
Writing in golden letters, 

"Only a pleasant smile"; 
Recording it with prayers 

Among deeds nobly done, 
As one immortal jewel 

Set for a heavenly crown. 




THE HOME FARM. 

FEW miles from the city, 

On the " Lilac Hedge " farm, 
Nature wears her brightest green 
And fills the air with balm. 



THE HOME FARM. 75 

The clustering elms at the "Grotto," 

Beside the running brook, 
Spread out their graceful branches 

O'er this sequestered nook. 

The big elm at the corner, 

The cherries near the door, 
Were set by hands now folded 

To rest forevermore. 
Beyond the north room window 

The lilac bushes grow. 
While fragrant cinnamon-roses 

Are planted just below. 

The house is large and painted white, 

Old-fashioned rooms low-built, 
With all the modern draperies, 

And parlor paper "gilt"; 
Three generations in pictures 

Are hanging on the wall, 
Their interest in the homestead 

United one and all. 

"Little Grandma" at eighty-five 

Sits in her easy chair. 
Quoting Scripture passages 

For every daily care; 



76 WAYSIDE GLEANINGS. 



She will tell you where Grandpa sleeps, 

That "all his life was good," 
How she had for consolation 

"She hath done what she could." 

The youngest son to the farm-house 

Has brought his handsome bride ; 
They are honest, true, and loving, 

And walking side by side. 
All are welcome to the table, 

Nora, Fred, "witty Will," 
And the new boy from the city, 

Who yet is very still. 

Oh, the merry life of farmers ! 

From the fountain drink their health. 
Crowned with Nature's bounteous blessings, 

Richer far than city wealth. 



THE ISLAND. 

ROMANTIC spot in Nature's scene, 
Where the tall pine trees are ever 

green, 

And the river flows on either side, 




SUCCESS. 77 

With only a peaceful, quiet tide. 

Mossy banks, overhanging branches, 

Through which the sunbeams cast their glances, 

Combine to make this beautiful place 

Attractive to wit, wisdom, and grace. 

I can only sing with tame repose. 
But the place where honored Colonel goes, 
With his graceful wife and children fine, 
Can not be described with stupid rhyme ; 
So I leave the song I can not sing, 
The Island home and its regal king. 



SUCCESS. 




[OTHING so good but it might be 
better. 
Nothing so bad but it might be worse; 
Take up life's burden, bursting each fetter, 
Nurture its sunshine, bury its curse. 

Sorrows and blessings more equal divide, 
Never contentment reaches us here; 

Life's clouds that are blackest have a bright 
side, 
Things are not always what they appear. 



78 



IVA YSIDE GLEANINGS. 



Wisdom never sits moping or fretting, 
Waiting for fortune to come her way; 

Events are plenty worthy regretting, 
Success may not be won in a day. 

Thought linked to thought, an idea is formed, 

Letter by letter a word is made; 
Stroke after stroke, and the picture adorned. 

Rewards the efforts, may be, of years. 

Difficult places, dark, weary despair 

May rise where it seems the goal should ap- 
pear; 
Trust in God firmly, on him throw all care. 

Success comes only if we persevere. 




CHEERFULNESS. 

HEN friends manifest approval 

Of all we do or say, 
When the sunshine of prosperity 
Is shed across our way. 
And we are floating on life's tide 

Like bubbles borne at will, 
How easy to be cheerful, 
To do our Father's will ! 




"Winter, Cold and Bare." 



WINTER. 8 1 



When knowledge is accessible 

Through channels smooth and broad, 
And Nature gives a comeliness 

T(J each poetic word, 
How easy to be eminent, 

To grasp fame as a flower, 
And live a life of cheerfulness 

When all is love and power! 

But when sorrow brings its burden. 

When weighty cares annoy, 
When only grief seems uppermost, 

Without one glimpse of joy, 
The heart is brave and noble 

Which can be cheerful still. 
And sees in each vicissitude 

A Heavenly Father's will. 



WINTER. 




NOW-CLAD mountains, frosty fields, 
Leafless forests, with glistening shields, 
Icy rivers, frozen lakes, 
Covered with the white snow-flakes, 
All proclaim King Winter's hand 



82 WAYSIDE GLEANINGS. 

Reigns triumphant in this land. 
Merry sleigh-bells jingle, jingle, 
Shouts of school-boys coasting mingle; 
Half the people glad and gay, 
On this chilly winter day; 
While the part are sadly weeping 
For the merry sunshine sleeping, 
For the buds of life's glad spring, 
For joys that summer roses bring. 
Winter winds will cease to blow. 
Spring-time drive away the snow, 
And the summer sunshine bring 
Rare flowers from buds of spring. 
Thus life's winter soon will end. 
All that's pure and holy blend; 
Till the sad forget their sadness. 
And the glad renew their gladness. 




THE SNOW-STORM. 

URRY! hurry! flurry! flurry! 
See the snow-flakes fall. 
Flying away from cloudland 
Pure and white on all 



THE SNOW-STORM. 83 



The fields, uplands, and meadows, 

Over hill and dale, 
The beautiful hand of winter 

Spreads her fleecy veil. 

They are only little snow-flakes, 

One by one they come. 
So many silent messengers, 

Working every one ; 
Covering over the daisies, 

Starry-shaped they fall. 
Covering beautiful mosses. 

Withered shrubs and all. 

Life's mission may be like snow-flakes, 

Works of Christian light. 
Silently spreading their mantle 

Over all the night. 
Though we are like tiny snow-flakes. 

Only very small. 
Let love and Christian fellowship 

Purify us all. 




84 WAYSIDE GLEANINGS. 



WORK. 

HAT though hands are worn and weary, 

Put them boldly to the task ; 
Though success crowns not endeavor, 
Something may be done at last. 

Labor little, labor longer, 

A unit counts when 't is cast, 
Granite rocks by constant working 

Yield a surface smooth at last. 

What though feet in walking onward. 
Weighted, walk with progress slow .-' 

Count each single step one nearer. 
Pause not till the journey's through. 

Count your blessings while you have them. 
Not their shadows from the past ; 

Work to-day, nor dream to-morrow 
Has for you some lighter task. 

Onward ! upward ! climbing slowly. 
Those will win who falter not; 

Eternity may bless the efforts. 
Which, in time, seem only lost. 



TRUE MERIT. 8$ 




TRUE MERIT. 

OOKING up at a squirrel, 

Perched on the highest tree, 
\ There 's only a harmless squirrel 
Looldng 'way down at me. 
Or look down upon that animal, 

Just peeping from a hole. 
He is a squirrel just the same, 

And not a meadow-mole. 
And thus is human character 

Perched on the tree of Fame, 
Just the same as it would be 
In a hut without a name. 

By putting on some spectacles, 

Which make the world look blue, 
It does not really follow 

There 's nothing white near you. 
And by looking through prejudice 

We do not change the man, 
In coloring opinion 

We 're doing all we can ; 
Except we pass our spectacles, 

Bidding our friends look through, 



S6 WAYSIDE GLEANINGS. 

Then every one will say at once: 
"Surely, the man is blue!" 

Let us throw aside our spectacles, 

And look with honest eyes, 
Seeing merit in the rich or poor, 

Where'er true merit lies. 
And if we see, or think we see, 

Faults in a "brother-man," 
Let charity, which rules with love. 

Reach out a helping hand; 
'T will do no good to spread a fault ; 

If human strength were all. 
The strongest would be but feeble, 

And all alike would fall. 




AN ACROSTIC. 

F thy years should ever glide 
Smoothly on with time's swift tide, 
And adversity, as now, 

Bring no cloud to thy fair brow ; 

Even then 't will pass away — 

Life is but a fleeting day. 



PICKING BERRIES. 8/ 

Then, dear cousin, be thy aim 
Higher virtues to attain ; 
And a Christian grace be thine, 
Yielding that sweet peace divine 
Ever given those who seek 
Righteousness at Jesus' feet. 




PICKING BERRIES. 

APPY children, picking berries, 
Merry as the summer birds; 
Living bright anticipations. 
Though oft unexpressed in words ; 
Leaving bushes thicker near you 

For the thinner farther on. 
Laughing at the hillside climbing. 
Heeding not the noonday sun. 

Just the same, I gathered berries, 

In to-day of long ago, 
But the frost of many winters 

Since has chilled the heart's warm glow; 
One dear one who skipped beside me. 

Now is sleeping far away, 



88 IVAYSIDE GLEANINGS. 



Silent, also, mother's greeting, 
Wont to cheer the close of day. 

One has felt the hand of sorrow, 

One estranged by fate unbidden — 
From the others how all blessed 

That their future path was hidden ! 
Happy children, picking berries. 

Gather sunshine while you may ! 
Unforeshadowed future trials, 

Unforetold to-morrow's day. 




THE PICTURES OF A DAY. 

IFE'S pictures are not fancy, 
I thought to draw one true, 
Of some peculiar people 
And phases that were new 
To a humble country woman, 

Transformed to city life, 
The bustle and confusion. 
Peace, harmony, and strife. 

The first that passed my window 
A princess might have been ; 



THE PICTURES OF A DA Y. 89 

If dress denoted station, 

She had no place to win; 
A living, walking contour 

Of fashion and of pride. 
But who can tell the falsity 

A gilded frame may hide ? 

The next was poor and haggard. 

Ill-clad and walking slow, 
As though life's journey was too rough 

For weary feet to go. 
Then followed one quite portly, 

A gentleman of pride, 
And so they passed alternate. 

But never side by side. 

The charcoal-raan was screeching, 

The echoing boys replied. 
Two women scolded fiercely, 

And half-starved children cried. 
I looked till I was weary, 

The field was all too wide, • 
So to study human nature 

I turned my gaze inside. 

Here was "a jolly fellow," 
They called him "candy-man," 



90 WAYSIDE GLEANINGS. 

His eyes looked true and honest, 
As only brown eyes can ; 

Revealing only present, 
Close-covering the past, 

While we question if the goodness 
Is looking forth to last. 

He spoke of life as merry, 

No sorrow held for him, 
Religious questions slumbered. 

Earth's pleasures he would win; 
He did not know my comments, 

'T is well the mind is masked, 
And silences the questions 

That otherwise were asked. 

And near him stood a woman, 

Who lived for self alone; 
Then one came in of sorrow, 

From whom some friend had gone. 
They each were pleasant-spoken. 

But something in the voice 
Revealed the inmost nature 

And gave my heart its choice. 

And thus one day has ended, 
One day of shop-life gone. 



THE SUM OF LIFE. 9I 

And I am not much richer 

Than at the early dawn ; 
But I have learned some lessons 

That may not come amiss, 
And days may come in after years 

When I can smile o'er this. 




THE SUM OF LIFE. 

HERE is many a place of rest 
On the weary road of life, 
And many a path would be blessed, 
Which is often filled with strife, 
If we would only look above, 

And reach for the helping hand, 
The invisible arm of love, 
That encircles sea and land. 

There is little to mar our song. 

In the joy of morning light, 
But the journey is weary and long, 

Before we can reach its height. 
And our feet will falter and fail, 

If we gird no sandals on, 
Or a cloak for the storm and gale, 

Or shield from the noon-day sun. 



92 WAYSIDE GLEANINGS. 

'T is the armor of Christian light, 

The strength of a loyal heart, 
That helps us to reach its height. 

By doing the humbler part. 
We can brush the gathering dust, 

We can keep the heart from sin. 
We can lighten life's dark distrust. 

By letting the sun shine in. 

Though we walk through a humble grove, 

With never a thought of fame. 
We know that the father's love 

Will honor his children's name. 
If we go to him as a child, 

He will lighten every care ; 
The sorrows of life will be mild, 

Its burdens easy to bear. 

We can gain in wisdom and truth 

By doing some good each day : 
Renewing the sunshine of youth, 

While age is crossing our way. 
This world is not made up of gloom, — 

It is only a school-day here. 
And the lessons, beyond the tomb. 

May sum with the answers clear. 



PART IV. 



r^i?ie.r)<asr)ip (ar)d \A/ ctvside V^lectrjinq; 




DEATH OF PRESIDENT GARFIELD. 

HE Nation's bells are tolling, 

The flags are draped half-mast; 
The buildings, clad in mourning, 
Bespeak the gloomy task. 

To-day we pay our tribute, 

The last the nation can. 
To a brave and noble statesman, 

A true and honest man. 

The President lies sleeping, 

The Nation's choice has gone ; 

And while great men are weeping, 
May not the humble mourn ? 

We bring no royal tribute; 
Only a humble lay, — 



96 WAYSIDE GLEANINGS. 

The common people's sorrow 
With the great of earth to-day. 

Each loyal heart sends sympathy, 

However small its mite, 
To the family thus bereaved 

When life was at its height. 

The Nation's tears are falling 

In sad, submissive grief, 
As we breathe the common eulogy 

Of our departed chief. 

To the sorrowing, loving woman, 
True type of noble wife, 

We offer heartfelt sympathy, — 
The rich and poor alike. 

And may the children left to mourn 

The true paternal care. 
Find early what their father taught : 

The sweet relief in prayer. 

For the aged mother's sorrow, 
The Nation bows in grief, 

And prays that he who chasteneth 
May also send relief. 



GRIEF. 97 

To the statesman left to mourn him, — 
To him who takes his place, — 

May our Father give his guidance 
And fill their hearts with grace. 



Septejnber^ 1881 



GRIEF. 




REAT grief is dumb," the poet said ; 
The years have passed, and lives have 
lived 

Who echo back these words from dust ; 
"Great grief is dumb." 

Burn still those embers of the past 
In human hearts — a hidden fire — 
Till sorrow wakes the ancient "lyre," 
And " grief is dumb." 

Life's childhood sorrows melt in tears ; 
No trace is left where they have been. 
'T is sorrow weighted with our years 
That "makes grief dumb." 



9^ WAYSIDE GLEANINGS. 

A healing balm, on wings of peace, 
Is borne to every life-grief here ; 
In heaven they will "shine out clear," 
Our darkest "griefs." 




SLEEPING UNDER THE SNOW. 

HILE shades of evening gather, 
And snow-flakes gently fall. 
Sadly we view the visions 
Hung on Fancy's wall ; 
Back through the deepening shadows, 

The firelight's ruddy glow. 
Comes the face of a loved one 
Sleeping under the snow. 

Fondly the angel-mother 

Visits the loved ones here, — 
Blessing the lonely children, 

Filling the room with cheer; 
And life comes back at twilight, — 

Only fancy, we know; — 
The form we loved is absent, 

Sleeping under the snow. 



LITTLE FANNIE. 99 



The years will come and vanish, 

But mother can not come 
To make the children happy, 

To greet them in their home ; 
But as their guardian angel, 

Does she their sorrow know 
While they think of her sleeping- 

Sleeping under the snow ? 

Why our Heavenly Father sends 

This grief, we can not tell ; 
We only know he loves us, 

"And doeth all things well." 
Knowing that in his wisdom 

Each in his turn must go 
To join the loved ones, absent, 

Sleeping under the snow. 



LITTLE FANNIE. 

fwO beautiful hands folded to sleep, — 
No more walking for those tiny feet ; 
How we shall miss that dear little face, 
Sparkling with sunshine, beaming with grace I 




100 WAYSIDE GLEANINGS. 



"Watching for papa," no longer here, 
" No kiss for mama," no word of cheer ; 
How fondly they loved, no words can tell, — 
Dear little Fannie lying so still. 

Sisters and brothers made her their pet. 
All her fond ways they will never forget ; 
Neighbors and friends loved the dear child, 
Always so pleasant, i^atient, and mild. 

They have laid her to sleep mider the tree 
Where oft, in life, she sported in glee ; 
And every day the home-life is sad, 
Which dear little Fannie made so glad. 

Heavenly Father, come near this home 
From whom thou hast taken their darling one ; 
Be thou their light in this hour so dark. 
And thou the shield of each aching heart. 




LITTLE HATTIE. 

AIR as a lily that blossomed into light 
Was that little sunbeam that made a 
home so bright ; 



LITTLE HATTIE. lOI 



Her little winning ways, her merry little laugh, 
Made their home-life happy, gladdened a mother's 
heart. 

The father came at night more pleased to greet 

that smile, 
None too weary with toil to take his little child ; 
The sister always went when Hattie went to 

bed, 
But now she says alone the little prayer they 

said. 

The golden curls are severed, and, with a silver 

plate. 
Remain as sad memorials within a jeweled case. 
Each toy is fondly cherished ; all in life she 

had 
Now makes a mother weep, now makes a father 

sad. 

Two tiny hands are folded, the childish voice is 

still, 
And aching hearts in anguish bow to "a Father's 

will," 
As th' little one lingers in their mem'ry and 

love, 
Beckoning their spirits to that bright home above. 




102 WAYSIDE GLEANINGS. 



JULIA. 

HE often sat at the window, 
Always smiled as I passed, 
Just as a ray of sunshine 
Will sometimes cross our path ; 
Making life's journey brighter 
The while its beauty lasts. 

Through weary months of suffering. 
Always the same sweet smile, 

Beautifying that sick room, 
Lightening the mother's toil ; 

Weaving a garland in memory 

That will not fade with time. 

I miss that smile at the window, 

'T will never come again ; 
Dark is the house, and silent. 

Where Death has left its name : 
And where I looked for the sunshine, 
Only the cloud remains. 

Our Heavenly Father sends them 
The sunshine and the cloud, 



JUDGE NOT. 103 



And in his wise beneficence, 

Decrees them for our good ; 
May this sweet assurance come 
To this afflicted home. 




JUDGE NOT. 

OTICE this, — a singular truth, — 
No two people alike on earth ; 
They may have tastes, wishes the same, 
The innate traits but one can claim. 

Virtue may wear a different dress, 
But it is virtue, none the less ; 
And people not the same as you 
May be at heart as good and true. 

Curb suspicion and know the real : 

Judge no man from an ideal ; 

Or if opinions you must form, 

Judge the good till you know the wrong, 

Madame Gossip set forth one day, 
Bound the people should hear her say ; 
Equipped with one small grain of truth 
And a million falsehoods she could use. 



I04 WAYSIDE GLEANINGS. 

Where the truth went, nobody knows, 
When the clay had come to a close ; 
Even the grain could not be found 
Which she started with on her round. 

The poor, innocent victim sighed, 
Wondering at the people's pride. 
Till some one told the cause, one day, — 
Wearily then she turned away. 

Oh! count it not "a suicide," 
Write it "murdered!" the weapon. Pride; 
And write "Judge Not" upon that stone, — 
A warning, bold, to every one I 



MARY. 




||NLY a look of bitterness and scorn, 
Only a flash, — the cruel deed was done; 
A poor little heart that trusted and 
loved, 
Fluttered once, then died like a wounded dove. 

Back to society, back to the world. 
Though every thing there looked dismal and 
cold; 



THE SHAKER BONNET. IO5 

Could one discover, who looked in that face, 
The deep wound which time could never efface? 

The smile, though colder, could scarcely betray, 
For she was the gayest among the gay. 
The world looked never on the broken heart, 
As in life's drama she acted her part. 

Only reality can long remain, 

And one day that face was shadowed with pain ; 

Physicians came with a remedy each, — 

Hers was a disease their skill could not reach. 

Weaker, though more lovely, she grew each day, 
Till a greater Physician passed that way; 
Lifting her gently in his arms of love, 
And Mary is well in that land above. 



THE SHAKER BONNET. 

[Some of my readers will remember that it was the 
fashion for little girls to wear " Shaker bonnets " about 
twenty years ago.] 

HEY hung it in its wonted place, 

That little Shaker bonnet, 
And oft in silent agony 
Their gaze is turned upon it j 




I06 WAYSIDE GLEANINGS. 

The merry, little, laughing face 
No more from it will greet them: 

But vacancy — a memory 

Of the little one — will greet them. 

Father, mother, little brother, 

Tearfully look upon it ; 
More dear to them than precious stones, 

That little Shaker bonnet. 
A volume of despair alone, 

And yet a cherished treasure ; 
They love it for the little face 

That peeped from it with pleasure. 

The father thinks, with silent grief, 

How oft she came to meet him ; 
The mother's tears give not relief 

Since God has called her to him. 
They feel that he is merciful. 

And, with Christian grace, will say : 
" Our Father, 't is thy heavenly will ; 

Lead us ever in thy way." 

They think of all the past, and weep ; 

Fond visions crowd upon it : 
The merry laugh they heard from out 

That little Shaker bonnet; 



FLORA. 107 

The last "good-night," the long, dread sleep, — 

The little one once given 
Smiles out again on angel-face, 

To turn their hearts to heaven. 




FLORA. 

[Written in memory of Flora, daughter of Andrew and 
Matilda Robbins, who died in the autumn of 1873.] 

HE passed, as the summer flowers, 

To sleep 'neath the fallen leaves ; 
The Father gathered her unto his arms 
With the golden autumn sheaves. 

The home which she left is darkened, 
One more brilliant light has gone 

Away from the morn of this life 
To the bright eternal morn. 

Flora, — this name has left no blemish; 

Fond memory lingers here : 
Brings a daughter, loved and loving, 

A kind sister and schoolmate dear. 



I08 WAYSIDE GLEANINGS. 

The life which she lived was spotless, 
Earth's prospects to her were fair ; 

But he who willed her friends this cross 
Helps them its burden to bear. 



SORROW. 




ROTHER, is your burden heavy, 

More in weight than you can bear ? 
Take it to your Heavenly Father, 
He is merciful in prayer. 
Are the chains around you galling ? 
You will find them lighter grown, 
If you have an arm to lift them 
To the Everlasting Throne. 

Sorrow has its sure fruition 

'Neath its chrysalis of clay. 
If it brings us nearer heaven, 

Casting every guilt away, 
Till we see a heavenly kingdom 

Clasped within its close embrace ; 
Lasting joys beyond the present, 

Waiting for the bursting case. 



MOUNT AUBURN. IO9 




MOUNT AUBURN. 

EAUTIFUL city of quiet and peace, 
Where the trials of life and its war- 
fares cease, 

Thou hast gathered thy children, one by one, 
From the living city to thy silent home. 

Heaven's sunbeams smile, or the storm-clouds 

weep, 
Awakening no tenant from endless sleep. 

The trees gently wave, and the flowers bloom, 
O'er the little grave and costly tomb : 

Shading winding paths, or grassy knolls, 
Where the mourner weeps, or the tourist strolls. 

Mechanical art and artistic skill 
Fashioned thy houses, so silent and still. 

Titles of honor, earthly laurels won. 

Have folded their pinions with the humbler one. 

Reverence still lingers for every name 
Enshrined with honor on the roll of fame. 



no WAYSIDE GLEANINGS. 

From loyal hearts, or from kindred pride, 
All are sleeping heroes, side by side. 

Fond parents weep o'er their sleeping boy, 
The future statesman of their pride and joy ; 

Or the little girl, with her winning ways. 
Had grown to womanhood's living praise. 

Fathers and mothers — none so good before — 
Have crossed the threshold of thy silent door. 

City of Silence, will thy tenants unite 
In the living city of endless light } 

Will the names which are carved by workmen 

here 
Be gilded in letters of honor there 1 

These questions we leave unanswered to-day. 
Their lessons we each may carry away. 




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Mr. Pentecost's life has been one of remarkable Interest. His Bible 
readings, for richness and suggestiveness, are, as Josaph Cook says ot 
them, " mountain summits laden with the dew of Hermon." 

*«* Any of the above books mailed, postpaid, on receipt of pricA 
Oescripiive Catalogue of our Publications free. 

JAM£S H. EARIii:, Publieher, 

178 Washington Street, Boston, mass. 



MISCELLANEOUS. 



Memorial of Prof. Elihu Boot. By Prof. H. 1 . UeU. 

Octavo. Paper, 25c. 

Prof. Root was one of the purest characters and most promising teach- 
«rs in science. His life, fUll of lessons, has been admirably sketched by 
his friend, i'rof. Neil. 

London Bridge. A Poem for the Times. By Prof. Jamea A. 

Martling. 18mo. Illustrated. 40c. 

This charming story, in verse, touches upon the relations of labor and 
capital, as it sketches the .'"'^a of its actors. 

The Human Will. Bv '«»-. A. B. Earle, D. D. 18ma 

Cloth. 25c. 

Tuis little work has already been received with most remarkable in- 
terest, alike by clergy and laity, and should be everywhere read. 

The Old and New "V srsion. By Rev. Philip Schatf, D. D., 
Chairman of the American Kevision Comittee. 12mo. Pft> 
per, 10c. 

Indian Wars of New England. Including the Life of 
Eliot, the Indian Apostle. By Colonel E. B. Caverly. 12mo. 
476 pages. 16 Illustrations. $2.00. 
The heroism and self-denial of the early Pilgrim settlers of New 

England, in their conflicts with the Indians, furnish lessons that cannot 

be too often or too strongly enforced. The book is one for the home and 

the public library. 

Pearls of Worlds. By Bev. Emerson Andrews. With Por 

trait. 12mo. 384 pages. $1.50. 

Mr. Andrews adds to his list of works this new volume. It may be 
styled an Encyclopedia of helps, suggesUons, UlustraUons for preach- 
ers, teachers, students, and people generally who wish to get wit and 
wisdom, personal experience, religious truth, and the hke, m compact 
and ready shape. „ „ m 

"A book of inestimable value."— Rbv. 8. B. wniis. 

All Things. By Frances Ridley Havergal. Cloth, 25c.; Pa- 
per, 10c. 
This we regard as one of the most suggestive and be4>M of tt« 

many works of this very popular author. 

%* Any of the above works mailed postpaid on receipt ttftifWIt 
Detcriptwe Catalogue of our publications mailed fret. 

.TAMES H. EABIiE, Publisher, 

\1S Washington St.( Boston, Mass, 



